There have been or still are at least a dozen recordings of 
                  Bruch’s three symphonies, five of the first, three of 
                  the second and four of the third, each of which made an impact 
                  in their day - respectively 1868, 1870 and 1882 - and the first 
                  two of which went some way to fill the gap between Schumann’s 
                  last and Brahms’ first over a remarkably long period of 
                  a quarter century. Carl Dahlhaus credits no one with writing 
                  any meaningful symphonies during this time, but the evidence 
                  would indicate otherwise thanks to those by Bruch, Dietrich, 
                  Lachner, Hiller, Rufinatscha, Gernsheim, Draeseke, Volkmann 
                  and others. These symphonists are not to be dismissed out of 
                  hand. 
                    
                  Compared to Conlon (EMI), Masur (Philips), Hickox (Chandos), 
                  Schmalfuss (mdg) and Wildner (ebs), the conductor here, Michael 
                  Halász persistently takes swift tempi. At times it results 
                  in a musical gabble of detail; the scherzo of the First Symphony 
                  is the main casualty, though to be fair the finale of the same 
                  work actually benefits from a faster approach than others take. 
                  One feels nevertheless that Halász is embarrassed by 
                  the music and seeks to get through it as fast as he can, which 
                  does the composer a disservice. One has to accept Bruch’s 
                  paucity of ideas in his finales, and his reliance on the arpeggio 
                  and the frequent string-scrubbing - which Bruckner was soon 
                  to perfect - to get his effects. It’s not all doom and 
                  gloom, however. The start of the Second Symphony creates the 
                  right atmosphere of mystery and foreboding mingled with passion 
                  when the Allegro gets going, but again Halász 
                  comes in at two or three minutes faster than most of his colleagues. 
                  On the evidence of this disc, the Staatskapelle Weimar is a 
                  fine orchestra, its wind players shape Bruch’s idiomatically 
                  Romantic phrasing with delicacy and care while the strings know 
                  how to inject fire and warmth as the music builds to the climaxes. 
                  However, few, including Halász pick up on or emphasise 
                  Bruch’s main theme of the finale; in it he alludes to 
                  the finale of Beethoven’s Ninth (track 7 at 27:00) in 
                  a way that sounds remarkably like the main theme of the finale 
                  of Brahms’s First written some six years later. It needs 
                  the same sumptuous string tone and texture, even a louder dynamic; 
                  here it is understated and goes for nothing. 
                    
                  Naxos now has an impressive five discs of Bruch’s concerted 
                  and orchestral music, but their editorial staff should check 
                  the box summary, which on the back of this one credits Bruch 
                  rather than Bloch with having written Schelomo. Probably 
                  the Scottish Fantasy was meant in this particular context. 
                  
                    
                  Christopher Fifield
                  
                  see also review by Brian 
                  Reinhart